


A Return of Two Kinds

by abyss1826



Category: Mumintroll | Moomins Series - Tove Jansson
Genre: Caretaking, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Sick Character, Snow, Spring, little my bullies her little brother (snufkin)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-26
Updated: 2019-05-06
Packaged: 2020-02-04 10:16:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18602494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abyss1826/pseuds/abyss1826
Summary: “Snufkin!” Moomin cried joyfully as he ran toward the bridge, “You met spring here even before I did!”“So it seems,” Snufkin agreed as his friend stuttered to a stop in front of him. “Did you have a good hibernation?”“Yes, but the waking up was even better!” Moomin grinned, taking Snufkin’s hands and spinning him around.





	1. Winter's Grip

Spring came blessedly early to Moominvalley, ushered in by the soft notes of a harmonica as Snufkin made his way through the mountain path. The valley was still asleep as he pitched his tent near the stream, so he decided to set up his fishing pole on the small bridge. He practiced the tune he came up with during his travels as he waited for the fish to bite. He heard the front door of the Moomin house open, but he could tell from the lightness of the footsteps that it was only Little My. Moomin would have come down from his ladder, after all.

“Look who’s here so early, Moomin isn’t even awake yet!” Little My declared in her shrill voice.

“The mountain path cleared up.”

“You missed Moomin, didn’t you?” she teased, leaning her elbows on his shoulder and putting her chin in her hands. Snufkin tilted his head so that his hat fell over her. She gave an indignant yelp, prompting a soft chuckle from the mumrik. “That was rude!” She told him, climbing out from under the brim.

“Was is now?” She could see the slight quirk of his lips.

“You should be nicer to me, I'm older than you after all! Respect your elders!” Snufkin only hummed passively in response. Little My huffed, but continued to quietly sit next to him while he played his harmonica.

Eventually the sound of Moomin scrambling down the roof of his house reached their ears and Snufkin smiled while Little My laughed at how silly their friend looked: half falling from the gutter and stumbling around to catch his footing.

“Snufkin!” Moomin cried joyfully as he ran toward the bridge, “You met spring here even before I did!”

“So it seems,” Snufkin agreed as his friend stuttered to a stop in front of him. “Did you have a good hibernation?”

“Yes, but the waking up was even better!” Moomin grinned, taking Snufkin’s hands and spinning him around. Snufkin chuckled softly, and the troll beamed. “What kind of adventure should we have, today? Unless you’d rather continue to fish...?”

“Ah, no, I was only waiting,” Snufkin answered, bending over to put the rod away.

“We should go swimming!” Little My declared.

“Swimming? But Little My, it isn’t _that_ warm yet,” Moomin frowned.

“Just test the water!” Before Moomin could do anything to stop her she went at Snufkin with a hard shove, sending him tumbling into the stream with a surprised squeak. She doubled over, cackling as Snufkin sputtered, treading water and grabbing his hat before it could float away. “That’s what you get,” she shrieked, running off, away from them. Moomin went to the bank, ready to help Snufkin, but he climbed out of the water just fine. There was no reason to think he wouldn’t. Moomin was just worried. Snufkin shook the water out of his hair and put his hat back on, frowning in Little My’s direction.

“She must be going off to bother her sister now,” he muttered.

“You should come inside,” Moomin said, putting his hand on the mumrik’s arm, “you’ll dry fast by the stove!” Snufkin nodded, gritting his teeth so they didn’t chatter with the stiff breeze that seemed to have started blowing just to spite him. Moomin didn’t realize he had kept holding his friend’s arm until he had to open the door. He hoped his fur was thick enough to keep the red in his face from showing.

“Mama!” he called, “Snufkin is here!”

“Oh! How wonderful,” Moominmamma said cheerfully as she took the dust covers from the furniture. “Snufkin-” she turned to look at them “-oh my goodness you’re soaking wet-”

“-Sorry-,” Snufkin mumbled.

“-what happened?”

“Little My pushed him off the bridge,” Moomin stated, frowning and crossing his arms.

“Well that isn’t very nice,” his mother tutted, “And where is she now?”

“Probably gone to wake up her sister,” Snufkin noted.

“Hm. Well, I’ll put another log on and ready some tea, that will warm you up nicely.”

“Thank you.”

Moomin was about to sit with him next to the stove when he thought of something.

“Ah!” he exclaimed, “I should get you a towel!” Before Snufkin had blinked the troll had begun the long climb up the stairs to the closet where they kept the linens over winter.

“Snufkin dear, it may be best if you hang your jacket up to dry on its own,” Moominmamma advised, poking into the room and offering him a chair. He took it and thanked her, shedding the sodden garment and draping it over the back of the chair so it could dry near the fire without him in it. When Moomin returned he startled Snufkin with a small yelp of surprise.

“You have a tail!” The offending appendage twitched as Snufkin, who lacked the concealing advantage of having fur on his face, blushed with embarrassment. “Oh, I'm sorry Snufkin, I just don't think I've ever seen it before is all, I don't mean to tease you….”

“You weren't,” Snufkin replied hastily, “I just like to hide it under my coat.”

“Why?” Moomin asked, handing over the towel and sitting next to his friend.

“One of my sister's liked to pull on it when I was little.”

“Oh!” Moomin exclaimed. Snufkin had never mentioned his family before. “What was she like?” Snufkin shrugged.

“The kind of sister to push me into streams for fun,” he grinned.

“Oh, we had better hope she and Little My never meet then, huh?” Snufkin blinked at him, and then chuckled.

“Yes, that would be a disaster, wouldn’t it?” He stared at the fire for a moment and then yawned.

“Are you sleepy, Snufkin?”

“Not really, being cold is tiring, that’s all.”

“Hm.” Moomin watched as his friend tucked in his legs and rested his chin on his knees, towel wrapped around him like a small tent. He caught himself wondering if it would be worth trying to get a comb through the other's tangled nest of hair while it was still damp, or if it would be better off left to its own devices. Moomin quickly looked back at the fire, embarrassed at himself. When Moominmamma returned with tea they looked over at Snufkin to find that he had, in fact, fallen asleep.

“Is he alright, Mama?”

“Of course,” she chuckled, putting the tea down on tray for them, “something warm should wake him up nicely.”

“Oh.”

The tea soon worked it's magic and Snufkin was back on his feet, merely damp and opting to dry the rest of the way outside where the sun shone. With almost everyone still asleep, and Little My engaging in her mischief elsewhere, Moomin and Snufkin were able to take a peaceful hike to the beach by themselves. Snufkin played his new spring song while Moomin walked ahead of him looking for shells.

“Snufkin, look!” Moomin said suddenly, pointing a finger to the cliff. “Someone had a campsite there in that little cave!” Snufkin stopped playing to look. Indeed, there were traces of a campfire.

“Shall we go over there and see?”

“I don't know, what if they're still here?”

“If they're in the valley now they probably have been all winter, with how difficult it is to get through the mountains when there's snow.”

“What if they climbed through the mountains despite all the snow?”

“Then they are incredibly stubborn.” Seeing the fretful look on Moomin’s face, he sighed. “What are you worried about?”

“It’s just a little weird, knowing someone was here while we were all asleep, that none of us know.”

“Well, nothing is out of sorts because of them, besides, Moomin, I’m the only real criminal here in the valley.” With that slightly alarming statement, Snufkin picked up the pace and continued playing his harmonica, Moomin quickly shuffling after him.

 

The next morning Moominvalley was surprised to be once again covered in a deep blanket of snow. The banks reached all the way up to the porch of Moominhouse, and the stream was sluggish with it. Moomin gazed out over the blank expanse in shock, knowing exactly where Snufkin’s tent should be yet not seeing it at all. He ran down to the kitchen, grabbing his Papa's old coat on the way, to find Moominmamma.

“Mama! Snufkin's tent is buried! Do you know if he came here in the night, by any chance?”

“Oh no, no he isn't in the house. I'll go get the shovels from the cellar, we'll dig him out quickly.” He followed her, fretting, since the snow went up to his chin and he wouldn't make any progress without the tool. “Here we go,” Mama said cheerfully, handing him a shovel. The gesture calmed his nerves a bit. She was very good at that, level headed and quick thinking.

The outside air was cold, but just humid enough that moving the snow was like hauling logs. Moomin was exhausted, but he refused to stop until they got to the small mound where Snufkin's tent had to be. At last they reached it, but Mama made him wait, digging out the snow around the partially collapsed structure first.

“If we don't, we can't get the snow off of it, and we can't have it caving in on us completely!” She reasoned. When that was done she stood up on her toes and pulled up the rear support of the tent, keeping it upright while Moomin ducked in for his friend, who has been worryingly quiet throughout their whole process.

“Mama!” came the troll's panicked voice from under the heavy cloth, “He isn't waking up!”

“I suppose he wouldn't,” she replied, calm as ever. “Well then, pick him up, we had better take him inside.” Moomin pushed Snufkin's bag out of the tent as he left, awkwardly carrying the mumrik in his arms.

“Is he going to be alright?” he sniffed.

“Of course,” his mother replied, now allowing the tent to fall in on itself, “it's just rather cold out, is all.”

Little My was standing on the rail of the porch as they trekked their way back to the house.

“What’s all your fuss over?” she asked brashly, crossing her arms at the damp fur under Moomin’s eyes.

“Snufkin won’t wake up,” he replied as Moominmamma ushered them into the house.

“Well of course not! It’s freezing outside!”

“What’s _that_ supposed to mean?!” Moomin exclaimed after laying his friend down on the couch. Little My laughed, which he did not appreciate.

“He’s _hibernating_ , Moomintroll.”

“How would _you_ know?!” Little My gaped at him for a moment, glancing between the two.

“Moomins hibernate when the days get short, Mymbles hibernate when we’re cold,” she crossed her arms again, “It’s not that difficult to understand.”

“Snufkin’s a- But that means-”

“-He’s my little brother. We’re half-siblings,” she huffed. Moomin stared at her for a moment.

“Well he isn’t very little anymore.” Little My threw her shoe at him.


	2. Vagabond in the Valley

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> three chapters now bc this is long and i want to get this bit out so if it has to conclude another time so be it have fun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for the comments on chapter 1!!!!! I hope you guys like this one as much as you did the other! <3

“So when will he wake up?” Moomin asked, picking up the quilt Mama had pulled from the closet.

“How should I know?” Little My replied, sitting in the middle of the bed. Moomin glared at her and unfolded the heavy blanket. He gave it a shake and let it fall over the bed and began tucking in the corners, ignoring the noisy, My-sized lump.

“Don’t be cross with  _ me _ , I’m not the one who went to bed in the cold!” She shrieked once she had fought her way out from under the covers. Moomin couldn’t help but laugh. Little My’s hair had fallen out of its bun and stook up around her head with static. She growled and leapt at him, stinging one of his ears with a shock from her finger.

“Don’t be cross with  _ me _ ,” Moomin echoed, giggling, “I’m not the one who looks like a pincushion!” She bit his hand when he went to lift her off his shoulders. “Hey!” She jumped down and stuck her tongue out at him, hands on her hips. “I can’t believe  _ you’re _ the older one.”

“I was born before your parents were even married!” she declared.

“Then why don’t you  _ act _ like it?”

“It’s not my nature.” With that she crossed her arms and stomped out of the room, determined to have the final word. Moomin rolled his eyes and followed her.

In the kitchen Little My dunked her hand in the wash bin before smoothing down her hair and putting it back in its bun. Moomin watched in interest. That was a handy trick. His fur was too short for winter static to do much to it. It must be quite irritating for creatures with hair if they had to find a way to get rid of it.

“Did you finish getting the guest room ready?” Mama asked, pouring another ladle full of batter into the sizzling pan.

“Yes, I’m going to take him upstairs now.”

“Be careful, sweetheart,” she called after him as he went into the living room.

“I will!” 

Moomin stood in front of the couch, watching the quiet rise and fall of Snufkin’s blanket. He wanted Snufkin to wake up soon, he thought as he shimmied his arms under the mumrik’s knees and shoulders, but he hoped he wouldn’t wake up before they got to the guest room. Little My had pulled back the covers on the bed when Moomin made it up the stairs, and watched him tuck her baby brother in from where she stood on the window sill.

“When do you think it’ll all melt?” She asked, scowling at the yard. 

“How would I know? I’m not snow,” he replied, walking over to look out with her. “We should bring his things inside.”

“Probably.” The tent looked awfully sad, caved in in a trench of snow. 

They decided to go out immediately. Little My hopped in Moomin's footsteps and pulled the stakes up while Moomin folded up the fabric. They put it in the shed, and were back inside just as Papa was setting out plates for breakfast. 

“Ah! There you are, you two! Mamma tells me we had an interesting morning here. Is Snufkin still asleep?”

“Yes,” Moomin sighed, eyes downcast. 

“Oh, don’t be so upset Moomintroll, he’ll be up for adventuring before supper, I’m sure.”

“Really?”

“Of course! He’s not exactly the kind to lay about just for fun.”

“No, he’s not.” Moomin agreed, unsure why Papa would mention that. The question quickly left his head, though, as Mamma walked in with a hot dish of pancakes. It was time for breakfast. 

 

Moomin stayed inside, watching the snow melt from the window of Snufkin’s room. The sun was out, hardly a cloud was in sight, and the creek was quickly rising with snowmelt as the afternoon grew warmer. Little My was surely out making a mess of herself in all the mud. Moomin sighed, putting his elbow on the window sill and resting his snout in his hand as he watched the birds that had returned to the still-bare branches of the valley. His eyes caught sight of something for a moment in the branches. It was too large to be a bird, but too far into the trees to see properly. The troll squinted, making out something red. As he thought he was seeing blue as well he heard rustling behind him, punctuated by a loud, rattling cough. Moomin spun around in his chair, the momentum almost throwing him out of it completely as he looked over to the bed.

“Snufkin?” The mumrik’s eyes were flitting around the room wildly, hair stuck up from more than just bedhead. His pupils had gone to thin slits, Moomin noticed when brown eyes passed over him. “Snufkin?” he asked again, rising from the chair and approaching the bed. Snufkin’s face was rosey pink as though they had been running around outside. His bleary eyes focused for a second, growing darker.

“Moom-?” his throat cut him off, interrupting with another bout of coughing. Moomin winced, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

“Looks like you got sick….” The mumrik sniffled and rubbed at his eye.

“Where…?”

“Oh, my house, there was a snow storm. Mamma and I dug out your tent and then you weren’t waking up.... You never told me you were a Mymble! Little My said you were hibernating, because it got so cold.” Snufkin blinked owlishly, pulling the quilt up to his chin. Moomin scooted closer and took Snufkin’s warm cheeks in his paws, resting his snout against his forehead. Snufkin was too exhausted to retaliate. The troll hummed after a moment and pulled back. “You sure have a fever….” Snufkin grumbled at the assessment, and Moomin could feel the low vibration up through his paws. His eyes had closed again and he was sleepily allowing himself to lean into his friend. Moomin blushed. “I should go downstairs and tell Mamma,” he said quietly. “Grandmother’s book should have something that can help you.” Snufkin rumbled again. “I’ll be right back,” he promised. 

“Stupid My,” Snufkin muttered as Moomin pulled away, “Pulling my tail and making me sick. She’s’n awful older sister.” He cleared his throat and winced.

“You don’t mean that.”

“Yes I do,” he retorted stubbornly. Moomin sighed and rolled his eyes, getting up from the bed.

“I’m going to get Mamma.”

“I’m going to sit here.”

“Good plan,” Moomin smiled, leaving the room. He padded down the stairs and into the kitchen, where Moominmamma was taking note of what was left in the pantry. 

“Ah, Moomintroll,” she greeted cheerfully, “was that Snufkin you were speaking to upstairs?”

“Yes, he’s awake, but he’s caught a fever,” he informed, tail drooping.

“Oh, it must have been his spill in the creek the other day, the poor dear,” Moominmamma sighed. “I’ll see what I can whip up for him.”

“Thank you, Mamma!” He said, quickly going back to the stairs, not wanting to leave Snufkin cooped up alone.

“And Moomintroll?” Mamma called after him. He paused on the stairs. “Do keep him from trying to leave while he’s still unwell.”

“I will!”

 

Moomin stayed inside with Snufkin the rest of the day to make sure he rested. Occasionally he would try to make conversation, tell Moomin about his trip south, but Moomin always hushed him. His throat was raw with coughing and he was close to losing his voice as it was, just because he had had some tea with honey didn’t mean he could start telling stories. He joined them for dinner but didn’t eat much, and over all there was no excitement. 

Until the next morning.

 

“Oh goodness, where ever did this come from?” Moomin heard his Mamma exclaim from upstairs. Worried, he set down the plates and went to find out what it was. He found her in the guest room. Beneath the window sat a metal pail.

“What is it?” Papa asked, walking around his son to examine it.

“I don’t know where it came from, I was just coming to see if Snufkin wanted to join us for breakfast!” Said Snufkin sat up in bed, a second blanket pulled over his head and shoulders, and squinted at them. Moominpappa picked up the pail.

“Why, it’s just fish,” he observed.

“How strange!”

“What’s just fish?” Snufkin croaked.

“They seem awfully fresh,” Moominpappa continued.

“It seems that a pail of fish appeared beneath the window during the night,” Moomin told him.

“Well that’s not something fish are known for doing….”

“No, it’s not,” he agreed.

“Did you hear anything strange last night, Snufkin?” Papa asked, looking outside. The snow had all gone, and there were no footprints on the roof or below the window.

“No.”

“Well,” Moominmamma began, taking the pail from her husband, “it would be a shame to waste good fish, no matter how strange their being here may be. We will have them with lunch.”

With that decided, the day went on. Snorkmaiden visited, if only to try to get Moomin to pick flowers with her, and stayed for lunch. Moomin left reluctantly when the mumrik convinced him he’d spend most of his time asleep, and that Moomin would have more fun outside than he would sitting quietly alone in the guest room. The troll decided to take the opportunity, while weaving a new flower crown for Snufkin’s hat, to ask if anyone had seen a stranger around the valley. Snorkmaiden said she hadn’t, but there had been smoke from a campfire in the woods that night. She had assumed it was Snufkin until she had found out he was sick with the Moomins. The two of them ventured into the forest to see if they could find anyone, but they only found Little My. Unsuccessful in their search they parted ways, Snorkmaiden promising to keep an eye out for anyone new. 

 

“Moomintroll, have you seen the water bucket anywhere? I haven’t any idea where I could have put it,” Moominmamma told him when he went downstairs the next morning. “I’m certain I’ve looked everywhere….”

“Why not use the metal one from yesterday’s fish?”

“I was considering that, but it does trouble me as to where it could have gone….” She sighed. “It will have to turn up where, eventually.”

And turn up it did, as Snufkin teetered sleepily down the stairs with it a few hours later. He walked up to them with it as they were still at the table after breakfast, Mamma wanting to let him sleep in more.

“Oh my! You found it!” Moominmamma exclaimed. “How?” Snufkin did say something, but his voice was too hoarse to make out words. Realizing this, he tipped it slightly so the Moomins and Little My could see what was in it.

“We’ve been fished again!” Little My shrieked. Moominpappa looked into the pail with a deadly glare.

“I’ve just about had enough of this,” he said in a low voice, getting up from the table.

“What are you planning to do, dear?” Mamma asked, taking the pail from Snufkin who seemed about to sneeze and handing him a handkerchief instead. Moominpappa’s response was lost to the frightful sound of the mumrik’s congestion, but the moomin marched down to the cellar instead of repeating himself. 

“Do you think something’s wrong, Mamma?” Moomin asked.

“Of course not dear, only a little strange, and certainly not the  _ strangest _ we’ve dealt with either.” She looked down at the bucket. “Fish for lunch again, I suppose!” she said cheerfully.

Later, Moomin saw his Papa storm out into the woods.

“Where’s he going?” he asked Mamma.

“Probably to find whoever is leaving us all this fish, I suppose.”

“Hmm….” Moomin stirred a spoonful of honey into the tea he was making. “Do you think he’ll find them?”

“Not if they don’t want to be found,” his mamma chuckled softly.

“Oh.” With that he took the tea upstairs.

Since Snufkin couldn’t speak, Moomin sat in bed with him and told stories. He didn’t have any of his own to tell since he was asleep all winter and everything else that was a story had Snufkin in it, and he shouldn’t tell any of Papa’s stories when he would surely tell them himself later, but he did have stories from Mamma. Most of them were of her going to places in Grandmother’s book, some of unfortunate incidents where a misidentified plant ruined a recipe when she was young. Snufkin seemed to like them, until Moomin felt a weight against his shoulder and found that he had fallen asleep. Not wanting to wake up his friend, Moomin decided that it would be a day for napping. And so it was.

 

That night Moominpappa decided that they would stay up in Snufkin’s room until the fish-leaver showed themselves. Little My told them that they were being silly. Mamma yawned and told him to wake her up if he caught anyone. Moomin was roped into making sure at least one of then stayed awake, between the two of them. Snufkin would sleep, of course, though it was a little strange to him to see the shadows of the two moomins sitting in chairs in the light of the moon through the window. 

Moomin blinked sleepily, holding his snout up in his hands. Moominpappa had dozed off, but he figured they should each sleep at some point or else they would be very cranky in the morning. He stared at the wall, wondering what exactly the plan was, if they caught the creature leaving all the fish. It wasn’t even… bad? Only unexpected and unexplained. It was actually quite helpful so early into the season, as Mamma had pointed out that evening when Pappa had returned in a huff with nothing despite his search through the forest.

Moomin opened his eyes with a start. He didn’t realize they had closed, and there were odd scrambling noises from outside. He sat up and turned the flame up on the lantern. The scrambling noise stopped, and he directed the light to the window.

The yellow reflection of eyes staring back at him in equal surprise made him yelp and jump up from his chair, startling Moominpappa awake. 

‘What’s happening?’ was the approximation of what Moominpappa yelled, as he was still half asleep. Before the creature had scrambled down from the ledge Pappa had thrown the window open and pulled him in by the front of his coat, telling Moomin to turn the lamp higher over the thud and wet slaps of fish falling out of the bucket the creature had been carrying by the handle in its mouth. 

“Joxaren!” Pappa exclaimed, looking at who he had thrown to the floor in astonishment, which quickly returned to a frown. “What do you think you’re doing?!” The black haired creature made no move to get up from the floor or the puddle of fish that had been made, instead looking quickly and with wide eyes between Pappa and Moomin. During this, Moomin observed him: the blue coat, the red hat that had landed a bit aways from its owner, the anxiously flicking tail. “Well?” His Pappa demanded. Joxaren cracked an awkward grin, his sharp teeth gleaming. 

“What, am I not allowed to visit my old friend?” he chuckled. Moominpappa straightened up and crossed his arms.

“Breaking into my home and leaving fish without explanation is not ‘visiting’, Joxter.” Moomin heard the bed creak as Snufkin sat up.

“Well, nothing’s ever really  _ that _ simple, is it?” Pappa’s frown deepened at the subdued tone in his friend’s voice, and he held out a paw to help him from the floor. The Joxter took it, and picked up his hat. As he placed it back on his head he caught sight of another reflective pair of eyes in the room, tail bristling as he froze. 

Snufkin, still sick and mostly asleep as he was, seemed to decide that whatever was going on currently would not involve him in its present state, and pulled the covers over his head to block out the lamp. Joxter let out a sigh of relief, which had Moominpappa raising his eyebrows at him. 

“I think we should have this conversation downstairs.”

“Yes, I would prefer that.” Before leaving they put the fish back in the bucket, but Moomin was told to go to bed.

Reluctantly, he did so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Joxter pays child support but only in fish

**Author's Note:**

> Please comment!  
> Stay tuned to find out who that camp belonged to ;)
> 
> My writing tumblr is smallest-letters if you want to reach me!


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